


Like Father Like Sons

by BrokenHeartedQueen, Cdelphiki



Series: Exiled Robins [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adopting Strays, Adoption, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Prostitution, animals and humans, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-24 03:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHeartedQueen/pseuds/BrokenHeartedQueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cdelphiki/pseuds/Cdelphiki
Summary: His entire life, Jason feared he would one day become his dad.  A good-for-nothing criminal who beat on his family and ran off when he was needed most.  An abusive loser, insignificant and deservingly unloved.And there for a while, he thought he had become his dad.But then he found an orphan in crime alley, and it hit him.  Hewaslike his dad.  Just not the one he feared being like.





	1. Matthew (pt. 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! You do not need to read the rest of this series to understand what is going on, just as long as you accept this premise:
> 
> Damian is 26 and Jason is 28. They are two years apart because of weird time stream shenanigans.  
> They're close now.  
> Tim raised Damian from 10-18, they are bffs as a result.  
> Damian is much more mellow now than he is at 13 in canon.  
> Jason gets along better with the whole family now.  
> Tim lives in another universe but it's cool they visit.  
> Also Bruce has like 5 grandkids. Three of them are Tim's and two are Dick's.

Jason was 28-years-old, and boy did he feel old. Which, _realistically,_ he knew wasn’t true. Saying that in front of an 80-year-old just earned him a scoff and a reprimand. 

He still felt the need to apologize to Alfred….

But for a guy who never thought he’d make it to adulthood, who technically _hadn’t_ made it to adulthood. The first time around. 28 was friggen ancient. 

And it didn’t help much that his knees ached more now than they used to. 

If his body hurt _now,_ he couldn’t imagine what Bruce felt like at 47. Honestly, the guy should retire as Batman. The noises he made sometimes were ridiculous.

Not that Jason was one to talk. He totally just groaned when standing from the crouch he’d been sitting in for the last hour. 

He’d been on stake out most of the night, trying his best to pin down a new player on the field. Well, he and Red Robin were trying to pin him down. Same thing. The demonbrat was always involving himself in Jason’s business.

Anyway. This idiot by the name of Jeffery Laine had intimidated a few of the working girls into working for _him,_ and was going after the rest,and Jason had a problem with that. Jeff was clearly new to Gotham, because most of the two-bit thugs on the streets knew not to mess with the homeless kids or the working girls. Otherwise, Red Hood pays ya a visit, and no one wanted that. 

Jason’s knees protested when he jumped down from his hiding spot, right into the empty warehouse below.

Obviously his intel had been wrong. Unusual, but not unheard of. Still really frustrating. Laine was supposed to come to this warehouse tonight, he thought, to meet with his men. There had been rumors that he was going to try to use the girls to push drugs, and this meeting was supposed to be the start of that. 

But he never showed. 

“Oi, Robin,” Jay said into his comm as he made his way to the corner where the girls usually congregated before calling it a night, “stake out was a bust. Any progress on your end?”

The comm crackled to life after a minute of silence and Damian replied, “ _Negative. Got caught up helping Batman with the hostage situation on 4th and Broadway.”_

Jason paused in his run across the rooftops and hissed, “At the orphanage?” The orphanage Jason _volunteered at._

_“Yes.”_

Hastily, he turned around and started off in a sprint toward the orphanage, ready to destroy as many knees as necessary. Possibly even make whoever the fuck dared mess with his kids unable to walk for the rest of their lives. “And you didn’t call me?” he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice calm. They all knew how passionate he felt about protecting children. _Those_ children.

“ _That’s what happens when you turn your comm off like an asshole,”_ Damian snapped back, “ _besides, the situation’s been handled. All the kids are fine. You can relax.”_

“Shut your stupid demon mouth,” Jason snapped, even as he felt all the tension drain from his body, “we all know Oracle can activate it remotely, you’re just making excuses. Let me guess, B thought I would be too emotionally compromised with this case.” 

“ _Wouldn’t you have been?_ ”

Stupid demonbrat. “Fuck you, runt.”

“ _I’m taller than you.”_

“ _I’m taller than you,”_ Jason mocked, making his voice high and squeaky to poke at Damian’s tenor, “I’ve got 30 pounds on you, pipsqueak.” 

“Boys,” Batman interrupted, “keep the lines clear.” Which was Batman for ‘shut the fuck up I can’t focus with you two squabbling.’ 

Jason opened his mouth to retort, probably with something scathing, he wasn’t even sure himself. It’s not like he really thought before he spoke, but his attention was drawn down to the road by someone shouting up, “Yo, Hoody! Come down here a sec!” 

“They’re really okay?” he asked, walking to the edge of the roof to look down at whoever was calling for him.

_“Yeah, Jay. They’re fine,”_ Damian said softly _._

Nodding, Jason took a moment to assess his surroundings, just to make sure he wasn’t about to jump into a trap, then attached his grapple to the roof and repelled down to where the girl was standing, hands on her hips, glaring at Jason.

“I’m the Red _Hood,_ not the Red _Sweatshirt,”_ he quipped once he landed, earning himself an eyeroll from the girl he recognized as Bambi, one of the working girls he often chatted with. Frowning now, he said a bit more seriously, “What can I do for you?”

“Are you still working on Laine,” she asked, crossing her arms and looking away to watch a car pass them. Even at past 3 in the morning, Gotham was never quiet. 

Jason shifted between his feet and dropped his arms away from his guns, trying to relax himself for her. “Yeah, I’m working on gathering enough evidence that charges’ll stick.”

Bambi nodded and pushed her hair out of her face before saying, “I think he got to Crissy.”

Crissy was one of Jason’s favorites. He wasn’t even sure _why._ She was a sweet girl. Probably a few years younger than Jason. She had aspirations, not that that was unusual for the girls he chatted with, but she still talked about hers as if they were goals, not outlandish dreams. 

Jason admired the hope she held onto. Most recently she had revealed her desire to get her GED, so Jason had given her a study book. 

Tilting his head, he asked, “Since yesterday? I just saw her… two night ago, I guess.”

“No one’s seen her since then, Hood,” she replied, looking back at Jason, “and it’s not like her to just disappear. Not since… not lately, at least.”

Aside from her talk about the future, he didn’t know much more about Crissy. Even if the girls trusted him to protect them from the gangs and pimps, they didn’t fully trust him. He couldn’t find it in him to hold that against them. His size alone was intimidating, and that was, perhaps, difficult to overlook for many of them. None of them were exactly used to men behaving like actual gentlemen. 

“Do you want me to check in on her?” he asked, because he didn’t actually know where Crissy lived. He never asked the girls to share that sort of information. It made them more comfortable, after all. Even if he would feel better knowing where to check in case they disappeared. Like this.

Bambi nodded and rattled off her address. 

Next thing Jason knew, he was landing on the roof of Crissy’s apartment. A rough looking building in the middle of Crime Alley. 

Not that any of the buildings looked _not_ run down. Even Jason’s place, which was admittedly in one of the nicer parts of the neighborhood, was in sad shape compared to most the rest of Gotham.

There were seven floors, and Crissy’s apartment was on the fifth. As quietly as he could on an ancient fire escape, Jason climbed down toward her apartment, but had to pause when he could hear the faint sounds of an infant crying.

Like, absolutely wailing. Poor little thing was screaming its head off, as if it was being starved to death. Or just completely ignored. And it sounded _young._ Jason had two nieces and three nephews. He had _lived_ with a baby for a year. So he had experience with babies, and this baby sounded young enough that its mom should still be feeding it every couple hours. 

Why was it being ignored?

He contemplated briefly checking on the infant first, and possibly calling the cops on a druggy or two who were neglecting their infant, but figured he should probably just pop in on Crissy first. Then go check out the baby. 

Maybe the kid had colic or something and Jason was just being judgmental. He didn’t know. 

Deciding on that, Jason finished his descent to Crissy’s apartment. The closer he got, however, the louder the baby’s screams got, and Jason felt his stomach lurch a little. 

The sounds of children crying really got to him. And this one was _little._

Maybe he should….

But it didn’t matter which he did first. Because when he peeked into Crissy’s window, into what was one of the two bedrooms in her little apartment, he realized the two problems were related. 

Because the baby was right there, in a crib, thrashing his little arms and legs as he continued to scream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short first part! This was supposed to be a collection of one-shots, but I ended up deciding to break up the one-shots because the idea got away from us. Please join me in the delusion that this is a one-shot just broken up into parts and not a chaptered fic. I don't think my brain can handle the idea that I'm writing another chaptered fic. :)
> 
> My friend BrokenHeartedQueen aka kasyfairytaillover is a cowriter! She and I really threw this idea back and forth and ended up deciding to collaborate. She's writing one of the one-shots and I'm super excited to be working with her. She's been my beta for a long time and she's great! We'll let you know which of us is writing. I (cdelphiki) am writing "Matthew." 
> 
> As of right now, Wednesday is the designated day for updating this fic.


	2. Matthew (pt. 2)

It took less than five seconds to force the window open, despite its locked nature. All it took was a little shaking, that’s how loose the panes were. The security of this building made Jason’s heart seize a little. He could fix that.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, looking everywhere but at the baby as he entered the room, “what’s going on, buddy?”

Somehow, the baby started screaming louder once Jason approached, and he attributed it to him being a stranger wearing a scary helmet in the dark. If babies this young even understood strangers. He looked like he was three months old. Was it a he? The room didn’t offer many clues.

On the opposite wall from the crib was a twin bed with a couple stuffed animals sitting on it, and in the corner was a backpack for a clearly school-aged child, but otherwise the room was sparse. A dresser next to the crib looked to have clothes for both the baby and for the older child, whom Jason assumed occupied the other bed.

“Shhh,” he soothed to the baby, finding a pacifier abandoned in the crib to put in the baby’s mouth, “It’s okay. Let me go check on your mama, okay? I’ll be right back.”

The poor thing was not pacified in the least, meaning he must be starving and not even sucking on a pacifier was going to help.

A pit formed deep in his stomach as he decided on his plan for looking around the apartment.

He hadn’t even _known_ Crissy had a kid, much less two. But he couldn’t imagine she’d just neglect her baby to the point of starving him.

Rubbing at the baby’s stomach, he whispered, “It’s okay, just five more minutes and I’ll help you.”

Jason drew his gun and slowly opened the bedroom door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the apartment, not with a child screaming like that, but he wasn’t dumb enough to wander around like an idiot in a horror movie.

The small living room with a kitchenette was empty, as he expected. Cluttered. Messy. Filled with toys and books and blankets strewn about, but empty of people.

Across the hall was a bathroom with an open door, also empty, which just left the other bedroom, right next door.

Slowly, Jason pushed the ajar door open and peeked around the corner, then immediately snapped back and closed his eyes.

Because he’d found Crissy and the extra kid.

And he was too late.

With much reluctance, he entered the room to survey the scene. Collect evidence and be a proper detective. Just like he’d been trained. Push aside his personal feelings and react like a bat. Like the Red Hood.

It was gruesome, the scene in front of him. Clearly the child, who couldn’t be more than 7 or 8, had come to his mother’s defense, probably after hearing her struggle. Some reward he got for his heroics.

“Oh, kiddo,” he whispered as he knelt down and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t really hope in him he’d find one, but he couldn’t skip checking, either. Just in case. He owed it to Crissy and her child.

Crissy was worse off, and Jason wasn’t sure if he was relieved that the kid hadn’t been tortured like she had been.

The baby in the next room screamed a little louder, so Jason decided to take care of him first before he finished his investigation. He needed to try and get some DNA evidence from the person responsible, then call the crime in. But he couldn’t listen to that little guy cry for food any longer.

“Hey there,” he whispered as he lifted the distraught infant from the crib. When the baby squirmed and tried to get away from him, despite being _tiny,_ Jason took his helmet off and set it down on the dresser. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt ya.”

That was when the _smell_ hit him. “Oh, boy. You need a change, don’t you?”

The baby calmed significantly when Jason put some of the rash cream on what was most definitely a _he_ baby and put a fresh diaper and onesie on him. His screaming subsided into whimpering, mixed with the occasional hiccup.

“How long have you been alone?” he asked, as if the little guy could answer him. Instead, the kid put his hand in his mouth and let Jason pick him up again without so much as a protest.

“Okay,” he said, settling the kid down into the crook of his arm as he made his way to the little kitchenette, “I really hope your mama kept some formula around.” Otherwise he was going to have to call social services and have them bring some or something when they came to retrieve the baby. Or ask one of the other bats to pick some up at the store and bring it over. Both options would delay the feeding much longer than Jason wanted.

Thankfully, though, he found a canister of formula sitting out on the counter, and quickly got to work fixing a bottle. After testing the temperature against his wrist, he held it out for the baby, who eagerly let Jason start feeding him.

The baby was drinking so fast Jason was tempted to take the bottle away every minute or so to prevent him from choking. Or make him breathe. Something.

Instead, though, Jason just sat on the couch and watched as the baby drank.

All he could think about was the life this kid had ahead of him.

Son of a working girl. A murdered working girl. She probably didn’t know who his father was, if Jason had to guess. So an orphan, now. In Crime Alley. He’d never remember his mother.

There would be no happy memories to think back on, like Jason had had. No good times. Only pain and suffering.

An entire childhood, an entire lifetime of pain and suffering.

Unless he managed to get adopted. But with his background, it was unlikely. For whatever reason, orphans in Crime Alley tended to stay that way: orphaned.

Jason ran his knuckles across the baby’s cheek as he closed his own eyes. No kid deserved that kind of future. Crissy’s kid didn’t deserve that future.

Crissy. God, Crissy. Bright, hopeful Crissy. Lying in the other room…

Opening his eyes, Jason went to put his feet up on the coffee table and had to gently kick a book out of the way. _His_ book. The one he’d given her.

God.

That poor girl.

After fishing his backup comm from his belt as best as he could without disrupting the baby, Jason said, “Robin, are you still out?”

“ _I was headed home,”_ came the tired response, _“why?”_

He hated to ask. Really, he did. Damian was his baby brother. Even if they were only two years apart in age. Even if they did what they did. Even if the kid had grown up seeing horrible things right from birth, Jason still felt the need to shield him. And this was a rough scene.

But it was just too much for him, and he couldn’t feed the baby and handle the crime. He was always being reminded he could ask for help if he needed it, and this was him needing it. “I need your help processing a crime scene.”

“ _A crime scene?”_ Damian said wearily, “ _how bad is it?”_

“It’s… there’s a kid involved. A couple kids. And I knew the mom. It’s- I-”

“ _I’m coming,”_ Damian said instantly, _“It’s fine, Hood. I’m coming.”_

The kid in Jason’s arms squirmed a little, letting out a pitiful whine after a rather loud hiccup had interrupted his speed-eating.

“It’s all right, kiddo,” he whispered, brushing down the baby’s fine hair with his hand, “you’re okay.”

After another moment, the baby finished the bottle and screwed his face up, like he was about to start wailing again, so Jason propped him up with one hand to burp him, just like Tim had taught him to do when his second kid was a little baby.

“Shhh,” he repeated, oscillating between patting and rubbing at the baby’s back, “you’re okay. I promise. I know I failed your mama, but I’m here now. I won’t let anything bad happen to ya.”

_That is, until I hand you over to social services._

Jason didn’t have much time to mull over that thought, because that’s when Damian chose to slip in through the same window Jason had used, back in the kids’ bedroom. Even with the cowl over his head, Jason could tell Damian was raising a brow at him.

Probably was a strange sight, seeing the Red Hood burping a tiny little baby in full uniform, sans the gloves and helmet.

“He was screaming,” Jason said defensively, “I don’t know how long he’s been left alone, but it’s been hours. Probably most the day. He has a terrible rash and was starving. I had to feed him.”

“So, his mom is…?” Damian asked, looking around the small living area before poking his head into the bedroom where Crissy was.

“Yeah,” Jason sighed, patting at the baby’s back some more, watching his little face as he fought against the exhaustion that was clearly trying to take over.

“How did you know her?” Damian asked from inside the room, somehow managing to keep his voice both calm and soothing while projecting it loud enough to reach the living room.

“She’s one of the girls I protect.” _Some guardian I am,_ he thought bitterly.

“Laine,” Damian snarled as he exited the bedroom and shut the door behind him, “this has his name written all over it.”

Jason nodded gravely, refusing to look away from the baby. “That’s what I thought.”

If only they’d worked harder on the case. If only he’d spent more time on it. Worked on nothing but. Not wasted his entire night following bad leads….

He could have prevented this. This was his failure.

Damian stood there awkwardly for a moment while Jason successfully got the baby to burp, then cradled him back into his arms to get him more comfortable. “So,” he eventually said, “I have everything we need. We can call this in.”

“But the baby,” Jason muttered, his eyes now fixated on the GED book, his brow knit in thought.

Because it was possible to grow up in Crime Alley and have a future. Jason knew that to be the case. Crissy, even, had been working toward a brighter future.

All it took was someone giving a kid a chance, or an adult forging their own path and giving themselves that chance.

This little baby didn’t _have_ to grow up hopeless. He just needed someone to give him a chance. He needed someone to protect him and support him and give him the opportunity to grow up free from the burdens of abusive houses or homelessness.

“We can wait until the police arrive to disappear, to make sure they take care of him,” Damian offered, looking a little antsy about them just sitting around in a crime scene.

But Jason shook his head. “No.”

Because, for as much as it had improved since Jason was a kid, foster care wasn’t going to do that. He worked first hand with orphaned children in the city. Knew the struggles they went through.

Sure, the orphanages were all decent facilities. Jason was not concerned for the kids living in them. He approved of their living situations and felt each of them received the love and attention they needed. But the few orphanages in town were for older children who couldn’t be placed in foster homes.

It was an archaic system most of the country had done away with, but it was Gotham’s only way to stop placing foster children in Juvie. This baby would go to a foster home, though. Since he was so young. And Jason knew for a fact not all foster families were good.

Jason knew he was an idiot the second the idea formed in his head. But holding the kid in his arms, he saw no other option.

“No?” Damian asked, looking around the apartment nervously as Jason stood.

“I-” he said, then shook his head as he saw a firebox sitting on the floor of the coat closet, the key still inserted into its lock.

“You….?” Damian said slowly, stepping closer to watch Jason rifle through the files inside the box with one hand, the baby still cradled in his other arm.

“I didn’t protect his mother,” he said, finding the document he was looking for and reading over the name and birthdate on it, “but I can protect him. I can protect Matthew.”

Because he _could._ He had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, even if he chose to never work. The job he held was really just a hobby. Something he did to feel useful and to make a difference in the city.

He was probably definitely an idiot. But looking down at Matthew, he figured it was the least he could do. Because this little kid didn’t deserve what the world had just thrown at him. What Jason had given him through his failure.

This was the least he could do.


	3. Matthew (pt. 3)

“Are you serious,” Damian asked, as Jason handed Matthew to him so he could start packing a bag of his things. It would just be way easier if he wasn’t holding the baby while he did that.

“Yep,” he said, waving a hand as he pulled out a few bottles and the extra can of formula he found in the pantry.

Damian sighed audibly, then bounced Matthew a bit as he started fussing. “Have you even thought this through?”

Not even a bit.

He’d barely even formed the thought before he was acting on it. And now he didn’t want to think about it. It was better that way— not thinking. Just doing. Thinking would get him to realize all the reasons it was a horrible idea. Then his brain would talk him out of it.

And Jason wasn’t a coward, letting his brain talk him out of things. This was the _right_ thing to do. So he was going to do it.

“Of course I have,” he said, shoving one of the blankets off the floor into the duffle bag he’d found in the closet.

Damian opened his mouth to keep criticizing Jason, probably, he assumed, but Jason cut him off by activating his comm and saying, “Hey, Oracle. Can you do me a solid?”

“ _That depends,_ ” she answered a moment later, “ _what do you need?_ ”

“I need you to hack the Social Security Administration,” Jason said nonchalantly, like it was the most mundane task ever.

“ _Why_ ,” she said slowly, clearly suspicious.

Jason moved into the kids’ bedroom and picked a few pairs of clothes and a pack of the diapers. He needed supplies, but didn’t want to make it look like he’d flat up taken stuff from the apartment. The last thing he needed was for it to look like the baby had been kidnapped.

“I need you to look up a Matthew Harris. Four months old, born in Gotham, and change his birth certificate to say I’m the father.”

_“I’m sorry, what?”_

“This is a terrible idea,” Damian cut in, having activated his own comm and joined the channel, "This isn't something you can do on impulse."

“Fuck off, Demon,” Jason snapped, done packing a bag. He found the infant carrier sitting beside the couch and pulled it out, then held his arms out for Damian to pass Matthew back.

He did, but added, “You haven’t thought any of this through.”

“Oracle,” Jason said, ignoring Damian as he set the baby into the carrier and started messing with the straps, “Can you help me?”

“ _I have so many questions_ ,” she muttered before saying louder, clearer, “ _Why?_ ”

“No questions, please?” Jason said, tightening the straps in what he hoped was the proper way. Matthew had already drifted off to sleep, the night of screaming clearly too draining on him to stay alert any longer, “If I wanted the third degree I would have asked Batman to help.”

_“Good idea, let’s get Batman-”_

“No! _Babs,_ please.”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, grabbing a blanket off the ground and putting it over Matthew in the carrier.

“ _If you were asking me to retrieve an SSN for someone, I wouldn’t have an issue, but this is a little more serious. He’s a real kid with a real dad, that I assume is not you. Why should I do this for you?_ ”

 _“_ Look,” he sighed, collapsing down on the couch, “His mom is dead, and she had no idea who the dad was. She was a hooker, okay? One of the ones I’m supposed to be protecting. And I failed her. Now her son is going to grow up in Crime Alley foster care and I just can’t… Babs. It’s so bad. This is the least I can do. I couldn’t protect her, but I can protect him.”

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity before the comm crackled with the live channel again. “ _Fine. But just so you know, birth certificates are a state thing, not a Social Security Administration thing.”_

“You’re the best,” he said, letting his grin seep into his voice.

“ _And it needs to look like she ordered the amendment herself. A couple months ago. Otherwise it’ll be too suspicious and you’ll be arrested for kidnapping.”_

“See, the best.”

“ _Which is what you’re doing. Just so we’re clear. Kidnapping.”_

Jason rolled his eyes as he stood, slinging the duffle bag across his shoulder and hefting the infant carrier up. “Yeah, well. I got kidnapped as a kid and it turned out okay for me.  Except the whole dying thing, y'know?”

And just that thought made him pause. Because, yeah. He was doing _exactly_ what Bruce did with him, wasn’t he? Jason had found a random kid while out on a case and thought ‘hey I can do something about that,’ and now he’s fucking doing it.

Just that thought alone made Jason want to reconsider everything.

“ _You said it, not me,”_ Babs said knowingly, _“Get out of there. I’ll set up everything you need and call the police in once I’m ready._ ”

“The best,” Jason repeated, then cut his comm off. When he turned to leave the apartment, he came face-to-face with Red Robin. Who was just standing there, his arms crossed, glaring at Jason. “You wanna move, maybe?”

“You’ve thought none of this through,” the demon repeated, and Jason could just _feel_ the judgement radiating off him.

“We’ve established that,” Jason remarked dryly.

“Like, none of it.”

“And your point is? We gotta get out of here, so if we could continue this elsewhere…”

Damian side stepped Jason, further blocking the exit through the window. “How do you plan on getting him home?”

The tone of Damian’s voice was enough to make Jason _want_ to punch him. Because it was very clear that Damian knew he was in the right here. He was a smug piece of shit and sometimes he needed someone to slap him.

Except.

He was absolutely completely correct.

Jason had thought _none_ of this through, and he had no idea how he was getting Matthew home.

“You can’t exactly jump from roof to roof with him.”

Which was right. Jason would need to walk. On the street. Like a normal person. Which was possible. If he switched to civilian ID, it might work.

Zip up the leather jacket. Hide the guns. Stash his gear in the bag with the baby stuff.

It would make the bag ridiculously heavy, but it would let him blend in with the normal populace. At just past 4.

Carrying a baby.

Through the most dangerous part of town.

As a civilian.

_Brilliant idea there, Todd._

“It’s dangerous,” Damian chastised, clearly thinking Jason was just going to hop from roof to roof, “If you think I’m going to let you play parkour with a baby in your arms-”

Jason looked down at the sleeping baby in the carrier and back up at Damian. “I haven’t thought this through.”

Damian snorted as he activated the computer in his gauntlet. “You’re an idiot. I’m calling the batmobile. Dad isn’t using it presently.”

“Great,” Jason drawled, “don’t tell him anything. Say I hurt my leg or something and can’t use my bike. Or better yet, _you_ hurt your leg. I don’t need him paying me a visit tomorrow.”

“Aw, you don’t like it when he comes to kiss it and make it better?”

“Fuck off,” Jason said, readjusting the carrier in his arms to be a little more comfortable, “he’s the worst.”

Somehow, Jason managed to get down to the street without waking anyone in the building and bringing attention to the fact that the Red Hood and Red Robin were walking out with a baby.

Then again, a building that could just ignore a child screaming all night probably wasn’t going to peek outside for quiet footsteps down the hallway. Jason was trying not to be bitter about no one caring enough to check in on the baby before he arrived.

Jason strapped the seat down the best he could in the back before Damian took off, then spent the ride over to _near_ his apartment, because they couldn’t just pull right up out front, Jason stripped of everything identifying him as the Red Hood and shoved it into his bag.

“You’re an idiot,” Damian repeated as he put the car in park and waited for Jason to get out.

Jason rolled his eyes and pulled the carrier up to the front. “You can stop saying that now.”

“Nah. I’ll watch and make sure you make it down to your building.”

“I don’t need a pipsqueak like you protecting me.”

More aggressively than necessary, Jason opened the door and hopped out, slinging the bag over his shoulder and grabbing the carrier. He only had four blocks to walk.

Four blocks. Through Crime Alley.

As Jason went, he looked around and it really started to sink in what he’d just done. What he was about to do.

And was this the neighborhood he wanted to raise a kid in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a good outline for this, so that's the thing I need to work on before I can continue writing. Once I have a good outline, I can tell you guys exactly what the posting schedule will be. I know what happens in the next part, so I might get that out anyway next week. We'll see! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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